Brisuuil: The Tale Of Dytnor & His Men
by AbbiePizzaWhore
Summary: After being bannished from the only place she has ever known as a true 'home', Brisuuil must take on a life threataning quest to be able to stay with The Wretched Alliance of Supernatural's and Protectors. How will she manage on her own? This is my first story- Sorry the first chapters are short! I shall make more depending on the feedback I get :)
1. A small bit of news

This was going to be much harder than I had originally planned.  
"Please, Asthmada! Just give me another chance!" I plead to her.  
"No, you messed up once again, and now look at whos suffering. I just can't afford to have you on board anymore." She hissed back at me, in her typical Argonian voice, ignoring the croak in my words.  
"You don't understand what this alliance means for me." I say, trying to guilt her.  
"Im sorry, but because of you we are down two men. Two! You know what that means?"  
"It means less loot, less income, less profit. I know I know, but Asthmada, please, I need this more than you realize."  
"I do realize. But this is for our own benefit. We loose anymore men because of your silly mistakes and your lack of training, we are done for."  
"Lack of training? You must be joking! Im quick with a sword, and even quicker with a bow. You, of all people, know that."  
"Brisuuil- Unless you're going to give us something that makes up for all of this, I can't-"  
"Look, if you give me one more chance... I'll- I'll murder Dytnor for you! And if I don't succeed- I wont live to tell the tale!"  
Silence flooded the room in an instant. Asthmada hadn't looked at me properly since she gave you the news. But now, her eyes were just transfixed. I look around the room at all of the people staring- A sight I had never liked to see. But I swallow the lump in your throat, and continue.  
"If you... If you don't let me go, and you give me just one more chance, I swear to you I will kill the Orsimer. No matter how hard it may be. And if I do not succeed, may my body rest forever at his feet, condemned to whatever foul state he leaves me in."  
Now everyone really was staring. There may be master thieves, assassins and warriors in this room, but none- none could kill Dytnor. He was a beast of an orc- deep purple skin, sharpened teeth for an extra crunch, And a look that could kill. He was twice the size of any normal Orismer, and a leader of the toughest clan. No one had ever defeated him. Not even come close.  
"You... Kill Dytnor? You must be joking me, young lass. No one on this earth could kill such a great orc like him, let alone a feeble Imperial such as yourself."  
"Feeble Imperial? So I may not be as good as some of the warriors you've mustered up- but at least I have the bravery to face up to the challenge."  
"Please, its not bravery that they lack, its that they have more common sense than you do... But however. I do enjoy a challenge. If you come back here, in one piece- more or less- with Dytnors head as proof, and his red ruby necklace that he keeps around his neck, then I shall let you rejoin us. Until then? Don't let me catch you down here. You've already cost us three men this year."  
"Yes, Asthmada."  
"Then, you are excused from the Wretched Alliance of Supernatural's and Protector's. See you on the other side." She says as she turns around, and walks over to the other members who are still jaw dropped.

Ever since I left home, I was part of the WASPs. That was four years ago. The alliance no longer have my back, and the only protection I have is the armor on your chest and the hope in my heart. And that small bit of hope has to get me to kill a beastly Orismer. This would have been much easier with the WASPs help. But they're gone and there's nothing I can do about it now. As I make my way outside, I am greeted by the bright morning sun's beams. The thing about Markarth is, the sun always hits it directly at around 8am, making it glisten. Its why its one of my favorite cities in Tamriel.


	2. But, I'm on my way

I gather my supplies, And head into the town of markarth. I decide to stop at the shop that more or less sells everything I'll need. Stepping into the shop, I immediately smell the scent of heavy dust. It fills my nose like a swarm of bees trying to suffocate me down my throat. I immediately spot something I craved- a ruby encrusted steel sword. It was dwemer- for sure- with a gold plated handle. I could tell the materials effortlessly with my years of training. I head up to the counter, where an old woman is perched onto a chair. Then, I realize, I have no gold. And with no gold, I cannot buy anything. "How can I help you, deary?" She asked me. I rack my brain for a convincing lie- I need not tell her I have no money. "Oh, well-you see, I was wondering, how on earth did you manage to get my sword?" "YOUR sword? You must be mistaken! An old gentleman bought this in, not three weeks ago, as he didn't want it to be given to the Siverbloods when he dies." "Oh... Grandpa! He got crazy in his old age. Got real clingy to the things in his house. He wont eat anything, as he says it'll be wasted. And yet- he feels like the Silverbloods will take it all for themselves!" I thought my lie was going just amazingly, when the woman piped up "Ah yes, I was believing your story, right up until I remembered, this man was Argonian. You are clearly Imperial." I had to think of a story- fast. "Didn't I say? That's my god grandfather! After my parents were assassinated- I had no one to turn to! He took me in, and gave me this sword that was my fathers! Its all I have!" Then, I started crying. I told myself it was the tears from good acting, however part of me feels that its the news that the clan has let me go, that's just caught up with me. "Lass, don't cry! Its OK. Here, I'll get you your sword- Just sign this paper, and I'll ask the dear man if he knows you. You are staying in town, aren't you?" Now, I knew very well that I wasn't staying in town. But that didn't stop me. "Yeah, I'm here until Mundas- the seventh of Heartfire, if I'm not mistaken." "Ok. So, if you just sign here-" As I sign a false signature under the name 'Siseria Hawkeye', I fantasies about the damage it could do. "Uhm- Siseria, I do hate to question you further, but you must be eighteen to acquire this sword." "Aha, well I was actually nineteen last month- but I am ever so flattered by your mistake." Yet another lie. I was actually still only sixteen and a half. But after the battles I had been through, I had aged more than normal. I was starting to create a whole false profile, a person that didn't exist. She was collected, calm, and not about to head into an almost certain death. 


End file.
